Disclaimer : I own nothing, but the typos. Oh and the OCs.
Warnings : Rated T for language.
Author's Note : Thanks to everyone who read, favorited and followed so far. Extra, extra thanks to everyone who's left a review.
Make sure you read chapter 3, if you aren't following this story. ff didn't bump the story after I posted chapter 3.
Enjoy.
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Tim spends more time in the bathroom than he probably should. By the time he wanders back to the table, Tony is ready to launch a search party for him. He might've just made a joke about putting up a poster looking for a man with ice cold feet if Tim didn't return with determination etched onto his face and water dripping from bangs.
Tony tilts his head. "Is everything okay?"
"I'm ready, Tony," he says quickly. "I'm going to buy that ring."
Tony blinks. "Right now?"
"Right this second." The before I lose my nerve goes unspoken.
"Then let's go."
As soon as Tony is on his feet, Morimoto descends on them like a hawk on its prey. He thrusts the bill in Tony's hands, then tries to escape to let them check the total. But Tony doesn't even look, just throws his platinum credit card at the maître d'. Anything to get them out of here before Tim changes his mind.
And Tim looks like he just might.
He stands several feet away, rubbing the back of his neck and seeming to calculate how quickly he could make it to his car.
Tony scrambles to get Tali into her stroller, but she wants no part of it. She grabs onto the edge of the sushi boat while Tony drags her dead-weight out of the booth. After years in college of taking down some of the best and brightest football stars, he still finds twenty-five pounds of flopping, bucking toddler to be more difficult. He wrestles her into the stroller restraints.
"Teetee, still hungry," she whines at the top of her lungs.
Tony crouches in front of her. "Tali, I need you to stop."
She thrashes like a wild animal. "Want more fishy! Now!"
"I need you to stop," he repeats. "Or McGee will go home because you're making him sad."
She looks over Tim with her huge, tear-filled eyes.
He looks just about to tell her that everything is fine, but Tony holds up one finger. Just play along, he tries to convey with the motion. Because one chink in the armor while waging war with a toddler is the same to running headlong into combat armed with nothing but a plastic knife.
Tim goes back to casing the exit.
"Maggie, stay," Tali says. Then she shrieks: "Please!"
Unsure what else to do, Tim holds his hands up in surrender. "I'm not going anywhere, TeeTee."
When she settles down slightly, Tony wipes the snot from her nose.
"Are you still hungry?" he asks, even though she ate half of their lunch alone.
Sniffling into her fists, she nods slowly. So Tony packs up a bunch of sushi into a cloth napkin and places it on her tray table. She clutches her horse to her chest, muttering to it in Hebrew as she scoops up another piece of fish with shaky fingers.
After he gets the receipt and his credit card from Morimoto, Tony scribbles down a large enough tip to cover Tali's freak out, stolen napkin, and ensure that they'll be welcomed back. With a gracious bow and something that Tony thinks is a Japanese farewell—or maybe it's Get your crazy-ass kid outta here—Morimoto retreats to his station by the front door.
Tony finishes packing up their belongings.
"You know, Tony," Tim starts, "we don't have – "
The glare Tony shoots Tim shuts him right up. "We're going to buy that damned ring."
And with that, Tony leads the way out of the restaurant. He strolls, head held high, straight past the pair of women at the bar giving him and his daughter the stink eye for ruining their Sunday afternoon bender. Tim's cheeks are flushed, his shoulders slouched as he follows Tony. He tries murmuring placations like, You know kids and We're just having a bad day. After a shared eye roll, the women dive back into pickling their livers with overpriced sake.
The men are barely half-way to the jewelry store when a terrible stench hits Tony's nose. Tim sniffs and Tony is pretty sure that he smells it too.
He drops his eyes to Tali. With her horse tucked under her chin and rice plastered across her cheeks, she dozes like a cherub with something unholy in her diaper.
You've got to be shitting me. Oh, wait…
Tim glances accusingly at Tali. "What is that awful smell?"
"We've got a situation." The words put Tim on high-alert, but Tony just laughs. "Don't worry, Tim. It's a diaper situation. I'll meet you at the jewelry store."
"Yeah."
When Tim starts towards the store, Tony grabs his friend's arm. "You better buy that ring. Or I'll shoot you before Delilah gets the chance to."
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Since Tony isn't hounding him to get back to the jewelry store, Tim takes his time. He pauses just outside to watch a young mother chase two identical boys around the food court. The mother tumbles to the ground and the two boys attack her, giggling wildly. They look so happy, so perfect together. A normal family. Something he never had growing up, no matter how hard he prayed for it.
For a moment, he wonders what's wrong with him, why he can't just go throw his credit card on the counter, and walk out with that ring for Delilah.
It's not that I don't love her. In fact, I can't imagine my life without her.
Swallowing hard, Tim glances at the jewelry store. The diamonds in the window sparkle magically, beckoning him to come and lay down his entire savings for the promise of everlasting, life-long love.
But Tim knows that the promise isn't always kept. No matter how hard children pray for it.
His parents—his stalwart, militaristic father and his compassionate, beautiful mother—were perfect examples of how 'til death do us part' only means 'til the kids graduate from college.' They put in their twenty-five years together—just long enough for his sister, Sarah, to get through school. Just enough time to earn their pension before his father buried himself even deeper in his military career and his mother eloped to Dallas with her true love: a pastry chef named Clyde. They were perfect examples of how rings and promises and all that pomp and circumstance mean jack shit in the end.
Do I really want that to happen with me and Delilah?
Tim sighs quietly.
Maybe he should have come clean to Tony. Because despite all of the pointless movie references, the stupid nicknames, and the G-damned pranks, his friend has that rare knack for being able to see right through Tim as though he were made of glass. Tony could point out the faults with Tim's overthinking and show him why whatever he originally thought was dead wrong.
That's probably why I feel so lost and overwhelmed most of the time.
Tim can't ignore the cold sweat spreading along the small of his back.
What would Tony say right now?
And in his head, clear as day, Tim hears Tony say, You better go buy that ring. Or I'll shoot you before Delilah gets the chance to.
At that moment, he finally grasps what Tony has been trying to tell him. That maybe he'll be doomed to repeat his parents' mistakes and maybe he won't. But he'll never know until he tries.
Tim rubs the back of his head from a phantom head slap. "Thanks, Tony."
When the young mother casts a suspicious glance towards him, Tim just smiles and waves awkwardly. He must look completely deranged: watching a mother play with her kids and talking to himself.
He drops his gaze and scuttles into the jewelry store.
There, he is greeted by two new faces. A tall, broad-shouldered man with a huge, fat scar carved into his left cheek and a short, thick man with a bald head that sparkles as much as the diamonds. Both of them wear identical grey suits with a sheen that makes them almost glow under the lights. They look just as surprised as Tim.
He is the first to recover with a forced smile. "Uh…hello."
The bald man glares at him for long beat. "Hello."
Tim glances around the store. "Where are Maurice and Rosalind?"
"Shift change." When Tim doesn't move, the bald man snaps: "We're getting ready to close up for the day, man. You should probably get out lost."
So much for customer service.
"I need to buy a ring. For my girlfriend." The bald man stares at him blankly while Tim checks the store hours plastered on the door, then his watch. "Look, your store closes at 6. So I've got half an hour. This will just take a minute, I promise."
The bald man sighs like the entire conversation pains his very existence. He yanks a giant, Marquis-cut solitaire out from a case and drops it on the glass counter with an undignified plink. It's the ugly stepsister kind of the ring Tim already chose. Maybe to the right person—probably, Tim decides, a blind person—it could be beautiful. But he sure as hell doesn't want to spend the rest of his life staring at it.
The bald man gestures at it. "On the house, man."
"There was one earlier that I liked. A Bilbo-something? It should be right over here…"
Tim moves closer to the display cases. At that moment, he realizes half of them are completely empty. Then he notices duffel bags behind the counter with the display trays of jewelry laid in them.
Tim takes a step back. "On second thought, I'll just come back tomorrow."
But the tall man blocks Tim's exit, pushes him deeper into the store. He keeps one hand clamped on Tim's shoulder, just in case the agent is brave—or crazy—enough to try anything stupid.
"What should we do with him, Harlan?" he asks.
The bald man makes a face. "For starter's, Fisher, shut the fuck up! I said no names! Did your mother drop you on your head as a baby?"
"Just the one time..."
Harlan's eyelid twitches.
Seeing the momentary distraction, Tim tenses to fight back. But Harlan clucks his tongue, shakes his head slowly. Hidden behind the counter, Harlan holds a Glock pointed at Tim's chest.
"You should've just taken the ring, Lover Boy."